


Infinities

by HobbitsofMordor



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, John Reese survives, POV John Reese
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 13:37:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8374153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HobbitsofMordor/pseuds/HobbitsofMordor
Summary: Even after the destruction of Samaritan and John's closest brush with death yet, the numbers never stop coming.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I just finished season 5, and I was so devastated by episode 13 that I decided to write a universe where John doesn't die. So here it is. For now, this fic will just be an inconsistently updated "case of the week" style fic. Well, not really "of the week", all things considered. There'll probably be an actual plot later on. Kinda like the show itself.

Okay...

Why does my everything hurt like hell?

"Mr. Reese! Are you awake?"

Is that Finch? What exactly happened?

Oh yeah. I was at a missile's ground zero.

I manage to open my eyes and take a look around the room. Wherever we are, there are a lot of computer parts. Then again, when you're around Finch that tends to be the norm. I look out a window to see the middle of a skyscraper staring back. Are we _in_ a skyscraper!?

"Finch?" I mutter, ignoring the pain shooting through my body. "How exactly did I survive?"

"You really are okay! Thank goodness! I was worried Ms. Shaw's medical experience wouldn't cut it!"

"I heard that!" Shaw shouts from the other side of the room, before doing a double take. "Wait, Reese is awake!?"

"Yeah," I respond. "Speaking of which, could _you_ tell me how I got out of there? Because Harold here doesn't seem to have any intention to."

"I know as much as you do." She says, before Finch interrupts.

"Actually, I was hoping you could inform us. We found you about 20 feet away from the crater. You were still alive, barely. Can you recall how exactly you got there?"

"No, Finch. The last thing I remember is being shot multiple times after uploading the Machin- wait, did it work? Did the Machine beat Samaritan? And if it did, is it back?"

"...I feel like if I answer truthfully you won't allow yourself enough time to recover before tackling the numbers."

"Yeah, well, you told me yourself, Finch. The numbers never stop coming. If there's a number, someone needs to be out saving them."

"Well, Mr. Reese, I will not give you access to any numbers or their data until you have recovered. Ms. Shaw, Detective Fusco, and I can handle them. Besides, Bear has been worried about you."

Bear hops beside me and proceeds to attack my face with licks.

"Aw, Bear! _Foei!_ " I command, and Bear obediently stops.

"Mr. Reese..."

"Whoa, whoa, all right! I've needed to spend some time with Bear anyways. Isn't that right, boy?"

He simply barks in response.

A phone begins to ring nearby.

Finch glares at me for a moment, before he moves to pick it up.

"So, Shaw?" I ask. "Where exactly _are_ we?"

"Our new base of operations." She replies.

"Which is where?"

"IFT." Upon my probing look, she sighs and elaborates further. "Ingram Technologies. Apparently, Harold here was _supposed_ to be next in line for CEO after his coworker, Nathan Ingram, but he 'died' in that same 'terrorist attack'. However, now that he's done with his underground life, he and his fiancee get the company."

"Imagine that. Wait, fiancee? You mean-"

"Grace, yes." Finch interrupts, returning the phone to its hook.

"Okay, exactly how long have I been out?" I ask, annoyed by how much I missed.

"5 months."

"Really?"

"Yep."

"And my injuries haven't fully recovered?"

"John, you were hit almost dead on by a _missile_."

"...fair point."

"Now, Ms. Shaw? Will you contact Fusco? We may need a little bit of help for this number. Also tell him that Mr. Reese is awake, will you? And John, before you say anything, we don't need any more help."

"I wasn't going to say anything!" I say, insulted.

"Yes, you were." Shaw butts in. "So who exactly is this number?"

"Christopher Brown, a famous movie producer, known to be good friends with Logan Pierce. From what I can gather, it seems like Mr. Brown has canceled a lot of his most anticipated movies this year. He could be the victim of an aggravated fan."

"Or the murderer of whoever is writing the scripts," I add. "Finch, if you're gonna make me stay here, might as well get some use out of me."

"Tell you what, Mr. Reese. If you're a good patient for a week, I might just let you help me out on the technical side of things."

"Sounds like a deal to me."

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the abrupt ending, but this fic is kinda a side thing.


End file.
